


Leave me my hearth (whose kindly glow by thee is envied)

by under_a_linden_tree



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, for now at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_linden_tree/pseuds/under_a_linden_tree
Summary: After the Apocalypse didn't happen, Aziraphale and Crowley can enjoy the rest of their lives together, getting comfortable with each other and making themselves at home.[This is a collection of mostly very soft, plot-free ficlets.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	Leave me my hearth (whose kindly glow by thee is envied)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from J. W. Goethe's "Prometheus".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuddling in autumn.  
> Beta-read by Tarek.

It is getting cold. Autumn has coated the world in reds and golds and misty greys, icy breezes, grazing rooftops and cobblestone. Candles stand in tiny windows, casting light for sentimental value while streetlamps guide the lost ones home.

In a bookshop in Soho, flames sizzle against the silence. They cast their shadows into the direction of a worn-down sofa, where two figures are entangled. Emptied wine glasses rest on the floor, next to a pillow that has slipped to the ground.

An angel is settled in between the remaining ones, a demon resting on his chest, tangled up between his knees. Crowley's glasses and Aziraphale's jacket have been discarded long ago, in favour of a warm, comfortable place. Aziraphale is carding his fingers through Crowley's flaming hair; his cheek rubs tenderly against his stomach in turn, not unlike a cat who has found her favourite spot.

"Are you happy here?" Aziraphale asks.

Crowley nods. "You?"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." He presses a firm kiss to Crowley's hair. "I could stay here with you forever, dear." Crowley hums in agreement and Aziraphale shifts so that he can wrap his arms around his beloved demon's waist. "You are everything to me."

His cheeks still redden whenever he says such things and he quickly buries his nose in Crowley's hair, curling around his body as though it were the only source of warmth left in a wasteland of winter ice.

For a while, there is only silence, with nothing but a car passing by on the street outside. Crowley reaches for Aziraphale's left hand and idly begins to draw circles onto his palm, tracing the lines humans are so fond of reading, in search of the passage of time. A strangled huff escapes Aziraphale and Crowley is left wondering for a moment. Another kiss to the top of his head, then the angel buries his face in the crook of his neck and a soft giggle echoes through every fibre of his being. Aziraphale is ticklish. Crowley relishes in this knowledge for a moment longer, listening to the mellow laughter against his shoulder, then he intertwines their hands, taking care to adjust Aziraphale's ring. It’s bright in the half-dimmed light around them. Crowley has grown strangely attached to it, to the way it shines against the soft skin of his hands.

“I adore you. Very much,” Crowley whispers and kisses the line of Aziraphale’s jaw. It has taken him a while to discover this spot and the joy it brings to Aziraphale.

The angel smiles the way only a being made of love ever could. 

“Don’t you think I know that already?” he says and moves his hand back to Crowley’s hair.

Aziraphale draws lines across the top of his head, the soft press of his fingers soothing the strain of a long, cold day. He keeps their left hands entwined but settles them on Crowley’s chest, holding him close. They have spent many nights together like this, cuddling on the sofa in companionable silence.

And Crowley feels so warm, so comfortable, so welcome. It's like he has never belonged anywhere else, like he was always supposed to be held by these arms and cradled against this chest. He has known Aziraphale’s cologne for a long time, even before the End that was also a Beginning, but it is a different thing to be this close to it. It clings to his own clothes, ensures that he won’t forget Aziraphale and his love. The restless has found his rest, safely returned to a harbour he could barely remember. Crowley is quite enthralled by the warmth of it.

"I'll sleep now," he announces in a low voice, knowing he will awake more well-rested than ever.

Aziraphale smiles against his neck, the ghost of it imprinted into his skin. Crowley could live centuries with the memory of this feeling. "Do that, my love," the angel says. "I shall watch over you."

**Author's Note:**

> I already have some more of the soft ficlets written, but there's no update schedule to this. A bit of plot may turn up in later chapters, but the idea is to let all of these ficlets stand alone, too.


End file.
